Chapter 496: Full-Line Offensive

The letter dropped by Luoning over Watchtower had a profound effect on the morale of knights and soldiers here. Combined with the terror cast by the dragon’s shadow in the sky, many had already lost their will to fight.

Only after Placido delivered an impassioned speech—assuring them that the lord of Watchtower would stand and fall with them—was order barely restored.

In truth, these men were easy to rally. So long as they saw their lord and captain lead the charge, they would follow.

Yet the words from that letter had taken root deep within their hearts. There would always be those who remembered this choice, ready to cower in corners at the first sign of danger, desperate merely to survive.

While Westwind Hill and Watchtower prepared for tomorrow’s battle, other noble camps were also making swift preparations.

Luoning took a brief detour to Gray Valley to check on Melonika’s situation.

Though Rulans had already reinforced the area with additional knightly forces and placed Baron Toru in support, Luoning still advised Melonika to delay the assault by one or two hours.

That way, he could arrive in time to lend aid after securing Watchtower.

Beyond Gray Valley, movements stirred across all camps. Twinpeak Gorge and Blackjade Bay, distant from each other, prompted Iben and Willis to personally lead detachments toward those fronts.

Clearly, they had been preparing for a long time—their armies marched without hesitation.

But this did not escape Mist City’s scouts, who swiftly relayed the intelligence back to their stronghold.

They understood now: the thirty-year peace along the border between two nations was about to shatter. And it would not be the stronger Trisia Kingdom that broke the truce—but Aduin.

Mist Fortress.

Ever since Trisia’s great victory over three decades ago, Count Ural had ruled this city, seized in war.

In recent years, thanks to trade between Aduin and Trisia, Mist City—strategically positioned at the frontier—had flourished into a major border metropolis.

Truthfully, Count Ural harbored deep reluctance toward this war.

It threatened both his profits drawn from Aduin and risked chaos within his lands. Poorly managed, it could bring catastrophic loss.

Especially upon learning the enemy possessed a Radiant Knight—and a dragon—his thoughts turned toward negotiation.

Yet the arrival of his mentor, General Aruba of Trisia, bolstered his resolve.

“Master, this is the letter sent from Watchtower. That Luoning has spread such messages so brazenly—it’s outrageous!”

Aruba, aged with wrinkles etched upon his brow, remained sharp-eyed and vigorous.

A Silver Moon Knight in his youth, he had long since ascended to Radiant rank.

He took the letter, lips curling slightly. “A Radiant so young—if you were his age, you’d likely be even more arrogant.”

“That’s true,” Ural chuckled. “Poor Placido still rallies his men with fervor. His loyalty moves me. If he survives this battle, I shall petition the crown prince—or rather, His Majesty—to grant him the title of Loyal Valor Knight, and recommend elevating House Kamen to the rank of earldom.”

Aruba shook his head, sighing. “Alas, he won’t have the chance.”

Against such overwhelming odds, Watchtower could not win.

“But his death, their deaths—they are not in vain. They will pave the way for our victory.”

Both men viewed the coming war with quiet confidence.

Aruba rose, smiling. “Then should I offer my congratulations early? To the new Duke of the Borderlands?”

“Haha—”

Ural laughed heartily. “All thanks to my teacher’s guidance!”

“Your teacher’s help is secondary. You’ve willingly sacrificed Mist City for the kingdom’s plan. That alone earns you the ducal title from King Taro.”

Their decision to withhold substantial reinforcements from Watchtower and other forward outposts wasn’t born of personal grudge, nor did Aruba or the royal family wish for their demise. It served a greater purpose.

Ural and Aruba intended to lure Redpine Keep and every border force of Aduin into a concentrated trap—and annihilate them all at once.

Sacrificing Placido and others was meant to dull Commander Garrett’s vigilance, luring the boastful, glory-seeking crown prince into overconfidence, driving him straight into their snare.

So long as the enemy was destroyed, some losses were acceptable.

Time passed swiftly. In the blink of an eye, the next day arrived.

Under Ryder’s command, Luoning’s knightly host advanced toward Watchtower. Professional knights, cavalry, infantry, archers—all held disciplined formations. At the rear, strong young quartermasters pushed seven mana-cannons along the column.

Unlike the tension gripping Watchtower, Luoning’s troops brimmed with eager anticipation.

Backed by overwhelming strength, their spirits soared like wildfire.

“They’re coming!”

On Watchtower’s ramparts, Placido watched nervously. From the enemy’s orderly advance, he could tell this rising star of a marquis was not merely formidable in combat—his army was equally impressive.

Though he had communicated with Luoning, Placido still didn’t know how this battle would begin—or end.

For Luoning played no conventional game. The letters scattered yesterday had already defied expectations.

Soon, Luoning’s forces reached the foot of Watchtower, halting seven or eight hundred meters from the gates.

Only powerful mana-cannons could strike them from here.

Whoosh—

A fierce wind swept the battlefield. Carlos’ form reappeared.

Without pause, he swooped low, swiftly gliding until he hovered above Watchtower.

As dread gripped every heart, Placido raised his sword high. “Mages, mana-cannons—prepare! Fire!”

The cannon operators snapped to attention, channeling arcane energy of matching elements into their weapons.

In an instant, muzzles flared. Colored spells erupted from the cannons, hurtling toward Carlos.

Alongside them came a storm of arrows.

Arrows meant nothing to Carlos.

Even enchanted bolts could no longer pierce his hide or harm his body.

But the barrage from those sixth- and seventh-rank mana-cannons—he had to pay attention.

Roar!

Carlos opened his gaping maw. Blazing fire, molten as lava, poured from the sky.

The attacks collided midair, erupting in deafening explosions.

The battle had begun.

Though the mana-cannons intercepted much of the fiery breath, scattered flames rained down like burning embers.

At once, Watchtower’s mages unfurled spell scrolls—walls of wind, barriers of earth, frost shields, armor of guardianship—flaring to life, blocking most of the firefall.

Only stray embers beyond the protective range struck rooftops and grass, igniting sudden blazes.

Luoning stood atop Carlos’ back. Though he had instructed the dragon to temper the breath’s full power, its intensity remained formidable.

That Placido had devised such a defense impressed Luoning deeply.

Still, Carlos could unleash this inferno multiple times. How many shots did their mana-cannons have left?

During Carlos’ assault, Ryder had already ordered the mana-cannons advanced hundreds of meters forward—into firing range.

“Fire!”

He drew his sword. Flames blazed along its edge.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The mana cannon roared, hurling flames and frost upon the battlements of Watchtower Keep.

Before the defenders could even breathe a sigh of relief at having withstood the dragon’s assault, the ground heaved violently beneath them, sending men staggering in all directions.

Some, less fortunate, were struck directly by the mana blast—seared instantly, reduced to charred corpses where they stood.

Pulacido’s expression shifted slightly; he had not expected Roen to unleash such ferocity, even after issuing his warning.

“Keep firing! Aim for their positions!”

Determined to lead by example, Pulacido strode to a nearby mana cannon and unleashed a blast himself.

Just as the spell hurtled toward the enemy’s artillery line, Radal suddenly leapt into its path. A flash of fire erupted—and the attack was shattered midair, deflected by sheer force of will.

Above, Karlos wheeled through the sky, turning back for another devastating strike. (End of Chapter)